Requiem
by CRIMS0N HAZE
Summary: Written with Xfilesguy123! Everything appeared to be perfect until the solitary gunshot was heard. Now a brother turns to anger, a mother turns to saddness, two detectives search for a serial killer, and Zack Martin clings to life.
1. It Begins Again

Requiem

A/N: Hello, all. This story is a sequel to _Pain._ It is written by me, (Crims0nHaze) and XfilesGuy123. Hope you like it :)

Chapter One

"Is there anything I can get you?"

Cody Martin numbly shook his head as he drummed his fingers against the table in front of him. He was sitting in a small-secluded room in the hospital. It did not seem like a hospital room though. It was small and dimly lit. There was no distinctive medicine smell. There was only a table with four chairs and a shelf with a water cooler and a stack of cups. There was a box of tissues on the center of the table, but Cody did not need any of them.

"Okay, I'll be back with the lawyer and your mother in a minute."

Cody nodded. He had been answering questions with a young police officer moments earlier. She was very kind and understanding as she questioned Cody, who mumbled and gave one-word answers throughout the entire thing. Now she was leaving.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" the officer asked as she walked to the door.

"No," he mouthed the word but no sound came out.

He stared at his hands. Brown blood dried in the creases of his palms—Zack's blood.

As the officer left, part of Cody wanted to call her back. He wanted to tell her that he _did_ need something. He needed his mom. He needed the doctors to tell him what was happening. He needed Zack.

But at the same time, he _didn't _want to see his mom or the doctors. He really wanted to know what was going on, but not if the news was bad. If there was bad news, he'd rather not know what it was at all.

'_Oh God,'_ Cody thought desperately, _'Zack was _shot_. He-he could really die.'_

His eyes were stinging even though he knew that he didn't have the strength to cry any more tears. There were enough of them, dried and caked onto his cheeks. He did not want to think about the reason why he had been crying, but the memories from earlier that day came creeping into his mind, hijacking it.

_It had been beautiful outside; such a perfect spring day it was almost a cliché. Cody was happy—his heart was flying high. Then, out of nowhere, there had been a loud, deafening blast. Zack fell to the ground. He was shot in the chest. He was conscious but not lucid. Cody watched as a team of doctors' carted Zack away from him and back into the hospital—back to the place he had just escaped. _

_Cody and his mom sat in the parking lot where Zack had been shot. Neither of them spoke as disbelieving tears coursed down their cheeks. They may have stayed there, but it was not long before the entire parking lot was swarming with cops._

'I'm in the middle of a crime scene,' _Cody realized as he and Carey were escorted back into the hospital._

Cody blinked back tears and shoved the memory to the back of his mind. Once they returned inside, Carey went to speak with the doctors, and the police officers questioned both her and Cody. Neither of them had been much help, though. Jack Cole was the only person who had seen the person who shot Zack, and he was in the operating room doing everything he could to save Zack's life.

'_This is so unfair,' _Cody thought to himself, _'we were going home! Everything was supposed to go back to normal. And now look what happened!'_

_---------_

Storm Henshaw walked down the halls of the hospital. She carried a navy blue briefcase in one hand. She was wearing a fitted blouse, a black skirt and a black business jacket. Her long dark hair was tied back in a bun. Her stylish, horn-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. Her black pumps squeaked as she made her way to the room that the hospital provided for the investigation. She knew that she would be in and out of this hospital a lot for the next few months.

She walked into her designated room, room one hundred, and saw Cody Martin.

Cody looked up, "Are you the lawyer?" he asked in a scared, quiet voice.

"Yes," she replied. She sat down on the opposite end of the table, "I'm Ms. Henshaw. I'll be representing you and your family in court."

Cody nodded and stared at a spot on the table.

"I spoke to your mother a few minutes ago," Storm told him, "She told me everything that happened."

Cody's head snapped up, "My brother was shot."

"Yes, I know," she said, "I'm sorry. I'm going to do everything I can to get whoever did this to him."

"I know who did it," Cody said immediately.

Storm raised her eyebrows, "you do?"

"It was Drew."

"Drew Taylor was the boy who attacked Zack in school," Storm stated.

Cody nodded vigorously, "He got expelled and he's going to have to go to a detention center."

"He's already _in_ the detention center," Storm said quickly, "When he and the other two, John Pascal and David Willis, were questioned they were sent to the Caring Hands Facility. I checked this immediately. Drew was in anger management at twelve thirty eight this afternoon. That's when Zack was shot."

Cody's mouth dropped slightly. It _had _to be Drew. Who else would want to hurt Zack?

"What about John and David?" he asked, desperately trying to find out who may have killed Zack.

"John was in group therapy and David was speaking with a counselor," Storm said, adjusting her glasses, "They were my first suspects too. But it couldn't have been them."

Cody stared at his hands, "But nobody else has anything against Zack. If it wasn't Drew, who was it?"

Storm smiled—a strong determined smile—"That's what I'm going to find out. But I'll need your help."

-----------

"He's losing too much blood!"

"His pupils are dilating!"

"I can't get a heartbeat!"

"His right lung is collapsing!"

"There is too much strain on his heart, he needs Epinephrine _now_!"

"Get oxygen in here immediately!"

Jack Cole felt helpless as he loaded a clear liquid into a syringe. _Get a hold of yourself, Jack;_ he ordered himself, _this kid isn't dying. Not now. Not like this._

He handed the syringe to Dr. Deana Evans, who was standing closer to Zack's upper body. She injected the needle into Zack's chest and let the Epinephrine flow into his heart.

Dr. Connor Murphy hooked Zack up to a heart monitor. Instantly a white line appeared, accompanied by a lone, continuous beep.

"The bullet is lodged in his lung," Deana said, "The cartilage is breaking away. It needs to come out now."

"If we take it out his ribcage will collapse," Connor argued, "The bullet is pinning it in place."

"He could develop an infection if it stays in," Deana pointed out.

"We can worry about that later," said another doctor.

Connor nodded, "We need to get the bleeding to stop and get him on a respirator."

"Get it out."

All six surgeons in the room looked up at Jack.

"Get the bullet out," he said, "it's putting a strain on his heart."

Connor looked at him, "But his ribs—,"

"Get the bullet out," Jack interrupted, "He's weak right now. His _heart's_ weak. It will give out. If that bullet is causing any more damage he will be dead within an hour."

Special agent Chance Matthews had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he walked to his bosses' office. The Violent Crimes Division was requesting him on a new case. It was never a good sign when the Violent Crimes sector requested help from the Behavioral Unit. That meant they were dealing with a violent and sadistic individual. Either that or their backs were to the wall. Chance was surprised that he had been called. At twenty-eight, he wasn't exactly the top agent working in the Behavioral Unit. He was just good at what he did. Chance had a gift for getting deep into the minds of serial killers. He had already assisted in the capture of eight serial killers. He had been with the bureau for only a little over four years.

Special Agent in Charge Ted Carlson looked up as Chance entered his office. Carlson was a seasoned agent in his late-forties. He had just recently been promoted to head of the Behavioral Unit for the Boston Field Office. Chance got along well with Carlson. Carlson gave him his space and let him work cases as he saw fit. Chance didn't work as well if he had a lot of people putting pressure on him.

Carlson motioned for Chance to take a seat. A man in his mid-thirties was sitting in a chair in front of Carlson's desk. Chance recognized him as Special Agent in Charge Brad Patterson, the head of the Violent Crimes Unit.

"Chance, I assume you know Brad Patterson, head of Violent Crimes,' said Carlson, adjusting his glasses.

"Not personally," said Chance. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair, something he always did when he was nervous. He had a bad feeling about this one.

"Agent Matthews, I assume you're aware of the string of fatal shootings that have occurred in the past three months," said Patterson.

"Yes," said Chance.

"What do you know about it?" asked Patterson.

"Four victims, all selected randomly. Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the chest. Killer leaves behind a telltale. A .45 caliber bullet with a red x painted on it. There have been no witnesses and no fingerprints. No evidence that can really help." Chance shifted in his seat. He figured one of two things was happening at the moment. Either Patterson was looking for a scapegoat so that his unit wouldn't be at fault when the case got ugly. Or something new had developed.

"Two hours ago a thirteen-year-old boy was shot in the chest at Boston General. Police found this at the scene," said Patterson. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside was a .45 caliber bullet with a red x painted on it.

"Son of a bitch killed a kid," said Chance.

"No. The boy is still alive. Last I checked he was still in surgery. But the killer seems to be stepping up his game. The last four victims weren't exactly upstanding citizens. Hell, the first victim was a convicted drug dealer and murderer. Now an innocent thirteen-year-old boy is fighting for his life in the hospital. I want this sick bastard caught and Ted here says you're the best profiler he has." Chance looked over at Carlson. Carlson was giving him a small smile. He had always wanted Chance to be the head profiler on a major investigation. He must have pulled a lot of strings.

"What's the boys name?" asked Chance.

"Zackary Martin. He has a twin brother Cody who is fully cooperating with the investigation. The mother Carey is a still a little too grief stricken over her son being shot to help out in anyway," said Carlson, speaking up finally.

"Who's the lead agent on the case?" asked Chance.

"William Cross. One of our best. He worked as a profiler for ten years before coming to Violent Crimes," said Patterson.

"I've heard of him. He helped catch the Boston Ripper last year," said Chance.

"He had a good profiler working with him. We need you on this, Agent Matthews," said Patterson. Chance ran a hand through his hair again.

"Guess I'm going to Boston General," said Chance. Patterson nodded.

"The Martin's lawyer will be able to give you more details there. The DA's office sent one of their best prosecutors," said Patterson.

"Who is it?" asked Chance.

"Someone you knew a long time ago, Chance," said Carlson, leaning forward. Chance raised an eyebrow. It didn't take him long to figure out who it was.

"It's Storm Henshaw," said Carlson. Chance let out a sigh. Storm Henshaw. The young and beautiful law student who had stolen his heart long ago. The determined law student who had graduated with top honors from Harvard Law. Chance always knew she would make it to a DA's office. Hell, she'll be a DA before she's forty. Chance had some good memories of that girl. But the last two months they had been together had been nasty. They both wanted glory and successful careers. They worked together right out of law school. Chance was looking into the stabbing deaths of three drug dealers. Storm had been representing a witness. Chance and Storm clashed through the whole investigation. It destroyed their relationship.

"Chance, are you OK?' asked Carlson. Chance snapped back to reality.

"Yeah. Nice to know a professional is handling the legal side," said Chance. Carlson gave a slight nod. Patterson handed Chance a stack of folders.

"That's everything we have," said Patterson. Chance tucked the folders under his arm and stood up. Patterson rose and shook his hand.

"Good luck, Matthews," said Patterson.

"Thank you, sir," said Chance.

"If there's anything you need, let me know, Chance," said Carlson.

"I will, sir. Thank you," said Chance. He excused himself and headed for his office. As much as he tried to focus on the case, he couldn't get Storm out of his head.


	2. Past and Present

Chapter 2

Storm rubbed her temples as she continued to question Cody Martin. She could tell he was becoming uncomfortable. Talking about his brother was becoming a real task for him. Especially since his brother was very near death.

"Cody, I know this is hard. But I need to know everything about your brother so I can find the person who hurt him," said Storm. Tears fell down Cody's face.

"I'm sorry. I want to help. I really do. But I'm so worried about Zack. If he dies, I don't know what I'll do," said Cody. Storm sighed.

"Would it be easier if your mother was here?" asked Storm. Cody nodded.

"I'll go get her," said Storm. Cody nodded. Storm got up and went to go get Carey. In the past hour and a half she had gotten a pretty good portrait of Zack Martin. He was a troublemaker and had made some people angry in his life. The question was did he make anyone angry enough to shoot him? Storm rounded a corner and headed towards the waiting room where Carey was being questioned. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a man walking towards her. What was he doing here? He stopped walking when he saw her. Chance Matthews smiled and gave Storm a small wave. Storm felt a large array of emotions sweeping through her. Anger. Joy. Sadness. And dozens of other emotions that mixed and collided inside of her. Seeing Chance brought back a lot of good memories. But it brought back a lot of pain too. Storm slowly walked towards him.

"Hello, Storm," said Chance.

"Chance. What are you doing here?" asked Storm.

"There's a new development in Zack Martin's case," said Chance.

"The FBI is interested in the near fatal shooting of a thirteen-year-old boy?" asked Storm. Chance pulled out the bag with the .45 caliber bullet with the red x painted on it. He handed it to Storm.

"The .45 Caliber Killer. Violent Crimes thinks Zack was supposed to be his next victim," said Chance.

"You work in Violent Crimes now?" asked Storm.

"No. They requested me," said Chance. Storm couldn't believe it. The .45 Caliber Killer had shot Zack?

"I find it hard to believe that the .45 Caliber Killer shot Zack. Zack would be in the morgue if that was the case," said Storm.

"Then how do you explain this?" asked Chance, holding up the bag with the bullet in it.

"Anyone can paint a red x on a .45 caliber bullet," said Storm. Chance nodded. Storm could see a faint smile on his face. He was testing her.

"Same old, Chance. Always testing me," said Storm.

"Sorry. I couldn't help it," said Chance.

"So what are you here for? To see if the .45 Caliber Killer really did shoot Zack?" asked Storm.

"I'm the new profiler on the case," said Chance. Ah, shit. Now I'll have to work with him, thought Storm.

"Well, then we'll be seeing a lot of each other." Storm frowned. This was turning into a real shitty case fast.

"I guess so," said Chance, getting annoyed at Storm's attitude. "I want to talk to Zack's brother, Cody."

"I've been talking with him for the past hour and a half," said Storm.

"My turn," said Chance.

"He wants his mother there with him." God, he's still a jerk, thought Storm. He wanted to dig deep into Cody's deepest emotions. The hell you will, Chance, thought Storm.

"Fine. I'll wait until you get her," said Chance. He moved aside to let Storm past. Storm let out a huff and went to go find Carey.

In the operating room, Zack was barely holding on. The surgical team was working tirelessly to fix the damage to Zack's lung and prevent his ribcage from collapsing. Jack had called in cardiac surgeon Dr. Chris Williams to oversee the surgery. Chris was one of the main reasons Zack was still alive. The surgery was entering its' fourth hour. The bullet had long since been removed and sent to the police. Chris managed to fix Zack's lung and get his heart rate to slow down. His ribcage hadn't collapsed luckily and doctors expected his lung to heal nicely. They would monitor him for the next several days. Zack was closed up and taken to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.

Carey Martin felt nothing as she walked into the small room where Cody was being questioned. She did not notice the cold draft. She did not hear the slight whirring sound of the air conditioning. She did not feel the tension in the air. The only thing that touched her was the sight of Cody. His arms were crossed and he was hugging them to his chest. His eyes were red, but he wasn't crying.

"Mom?"

Carey looked at him and sat beside him. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his frail body. The tears began to flow from both of them and Cody fell into his mother's embrace.

"It's not fair," he choked out.

"I know, baby," Carey said as she held him close, "I know."

Storm took a few steps closer to Chance, "Let's give them a minute," she whispered.

Chance opened his mouth to protest but Storm interrupted him, "_now_."

Neither Carey nor Cody paid any attention to the closing door.

"Is Zack going to die?"

Carey pulled back slightly. She cupped Cody's face in her hands, catching his tears, "He's still in surgery," she said, "It—the doctors told me it could go either way."

Cody shook his head. He pushed Carey's hands away from his face, "I hate this," he said angrily, "Why is this happening all over again?"

Before Carey could think of something to say to that unanswerable question, the door swung open."

"I thought you said you were going to give us a minute," Carey snapped. But to her surprise, it was not one of the investigators who opened the door. It was Jack Cole.

Carey and Cody leapt up and began firing questions at him.

"Is Zack okay?"

"Is he out of surgery yet?"

"Did you get the bullet?"

"What's going to happen?"

"Did he survive?"

Jack held up his hands, "He's alive," he said quietly, "He's in a private room in the PICU.

Cody closed his eyes and fell back into his chair, silent tears streaming down his face. He replayed Jack's words in his mind.

'_He's alive, he's alive, he's alive.'_

"I know you're in the middle of an investigation," Jack continued, "But if you want to see Zack, that's fine."

Carey nodded, unable to speak. Relief was spreading through her chest.

"Come with me," Jack said, "I'll take you to him."

Cody sprang to his feet. He walked slightly behind Jack and his mother as they walked up to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. They were talking about Zack's prognosis, but Cody wasn't listening. All he could think about was the ominous gunshot that shattered his world hours before.

"Take as much time as you need," Jack said once they reached Zack's door. He sighed, "I suppose the two of you are getting really used to this by now."

"Unfortunately," Carey said, smiling bitterly.

Cody walked passed the two of them to get into the room. He rushed to Zack's bed and looked at him.

He inhaled sharply. _This is bad._ Zack had an IV in one hand. He was on a respirator so there was a tube down his throat, taped to his cheek to keep it in place. There was a thin tube stretched across his upper lip, with two extensions going up his nostrils. There were wires taped to his chest.

Cody picked up Zack's un-bandaged hand and kissed his forehead.

"Zack," he whispered into his twin's hair, "You gotta keep fighting. I can't lose you now. I love you."


	3. An End to a Very Long Day

**Author's Note—Like all of my other stories, this one has inadvertently been put on-hold. (Much to XfilesGuy123's dismay… sorry again, man!) But here's chapter three! Hope you like it, and please review!**

Chance and Storm sat down in the hall while they waited for Cody and Carey. Storm tapped her foot while Chance cracked his knuckles.

"That's such a bad habit, Chance," said Storm.

"Been doing it for a few years now. I do it when I'm nervous sometimes," said Chance.

"What are you nervous about now?" asked Storm.

"A lot of things. Zack Martin. The killer. An abduction case in Salem that's getting uglier by the minute. A double homicide in New York that I'm helping out with. A serial killer about to go on trial. Sick bastard murdered six nine to thirteen-year-old boys in Philadelphia. He has a crap load of money so he hired a ruthless defense team who are trying to either get him off or claim insanity. They're attacking every angle of the prosecution." Chance sighed. Storm felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Chance always had a lot on his plate. It was the job he chose. Multiple cases at once. Storm usually took cases one at a time.

"How's Toby?" asked Storm, trying to change the topic to something nice. Chance smiled.

"He's good. Best student in his class. Popular. Happy. Little League pitcher. Kid has a mean fastball. He's doing great," said Chance. Toby Matthews was Chance's world. A bright and happy eight-year-old boy who took after his father in ambition and kindness. Well, Toby was a little nicer then Chance. Chance could be nasty at times.

"I'm sorry I acted like an ass earlier," said Chance.

"Don't worry about it. It's good to see you, Chance. Honestly," said Storm. Chance smiled. Chance and Storm looked up as the door to Zack's room opened. Carey walked out.

"Cody wants to spend a little more time with Zack. I'll be more then happy to answer any questions," said Carey.

"Agent Matthews would like to talk to Cody. But I have a few questions. If you don't mind going somewhere more private," said Storm. Carey turned her attention to Chance.

"No offense, Agent Matthews, but I'd feel better if Ms. Henshaw was present when you question Cody," said Carey.

"None taken. She is Cody's lawyer," said Chance.

"OK. We can talk some other time, Mrs. Martin," said Storm.

"So what kind of agent are you?" asked Carey, looking Chance over with question.

"FBI," said Chance, flashing his badge.

"FBI? What's your interest in Zack?" asked Carey, leaning against the wall.

"You watch the news a lot?" asked Chance.

"Yeah," said Carey.

"So I assume you know about the killer going around shooting people in the chest," said Chance. Carey's mouth dropped.

"You think that madman shot Zack?" asked Carey. Chance showed her the bag with the bullet in it.

"Yes I do," said Chance. Carey put a hand over her mouth.

"That's between you, me, and Ms. Henshaw. Your son doesn't need to know that yet," said Chance. Carey nodded.

"Zack's lucky to be alive. He must have a guardian angel or something," said Carey. She gathered herself and looked at Storm.

"Are you still going to represent us if that psycho is the one that shot Zack?"

"Of course. I'm mainly here to build a case against Drew Taylor and his friends for attacking Zack. That's assault and I think they deserve a few months in juvie."

"And if the killer did shoot Zack, she'll be an expert witness at the trial when we catch the bastard," said Chance. Carey nodded.

"We're both here to fight for you and your boys," said Storm.

"I can't thank you both enough," said Carey. Chance looked Carey in the eyes.

"You can thank us when this psycho is behind bars," said Chance. Carey gave a weak smile and nodded.

Cody spent another thirty minutes with Zack. Carey came in to remind him that he needed to talk with the FBI agent. Cody kissed Zack on the cheek as he stood up.

"I'll be back later, buddy," said Cody. Cody followed Carey out into the hall.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable," said Storm. The four of them went to small waiting room. Carey and Cody sat down on a couch while Chance and Storm took a seat in two chairs across from them.

"Cody, my name is Chance. I'd like to ask you a few questions." Cody nodded.

"Do you remember seeing anyone who looked suspicious?"

"No. I was just looking at Zack in disbelief." A single tear fell down his cheek. Cody wiped it away.

"Can you think of anyone else who may have wanted to hurt Zack instead of those three boys who attacked him?" Cody thought about this for a minute.

"No. Drew was Zack's arch enemy. He'd be the first one to pull a gun on him." Chance sighed. He was starting to think more and more that the faceless .45 Caliber Killer was his shooter. Part of him didn't want to believe it. Chance would have rather been kicked in the head then work alongside Violent Crimes on a case like this. Especially with a kid involved. Violent Crimes would be merciless when they questioned Cody. Chance had no way to prepare him. He had to get as much info out of him before Violent Crimes turned him into an emotional wreck.

The questioning lasted an hour. Cody did his best to be helpful. But he was longing to go back into Zack's room and sit with him. Chance was out of questions. If he kept going, he would start to tread on personal ground. Cody wasn't ready for that. He needed to spend a few days with his brother. Cody excused himself and went back to Zack's room. It was getting late. Chance glanced at his watch. 10:34.

"It's getting late. We should all get some rest. It's going to be a long day tomorrow once Violent Crimes shows up," said Chance as he gathered his things.

"Violent Crimes?" asked Carey.

"They're heading up the serial killer case. I'm just the profiler. They call the shots," explained Chance. He stood up.

"I will see you all tomorrow. Storm, nice seeing you again. Mrs. Martin, I assure you I'll do everything I can to find the person who hurt your son," said Chance. Carey nodded.

"Thank you, Agent Matthews," said Carey, a slight tremor in her voice. She was dying to go sit with Zack for the rest of the night. Chance gave her a weak smile and then left.

"I need to get going to. If you need anything at all, Carey…"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Storm," interrupting her. Storm nodded.

"Take care," said Storm. She got her things together and left as well. Carey sighed and walked to Zack's room.

It took Chance more the thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. Once there his energy started to sag. He'd be surprised if he didn't pass out in the hallway. Chance sighed as he put his coat away in the hall closet. Ida Fields was reading a novel in the living room.

"Sorry I'm late," said Chance.

"That's OK," said Ida, marking her place in her book and standing up.

"Was everything OK?" asked Chance.

"Oh yes. Toby was an angel as always. He finished his homework right after practice and watched a Spongebob marathon right up until bedtime," said Ida. Chance smiled.

"Thank you, Ida. I'll try not to work so late tomorrow," said Chance. He handed her an extra twenty along with the usual twenty.

"Chance, you work for the FBI. I'd be worried if you didn't work late," said Ida. Chance chuckled.

"Good night, dear," said Ida, heading towards the door.

"Night, Ida," said Chance. Ida smiled as she left and went to her apartment across the hall. Chance locked his gun in the cabinet and went into Toby's room. Toby's back was to the door and he was curled up under the covers fast asleep. Chance sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Toby sleep. Toby had inherited looks from both parents. He had his father's grey-blue eyes and round nose. He also had a freckle on his stomach that was identical to one Chance had his own stomach. From his mother Toby inherited light brown hair and very full and sensual lips. His eyelashes were long like his mother's too. Chance felt his heart ache as he thought of his loving wife and best friend. Amanda. Now six years dead. The victim of a serial rapist who turned to murder when he attacked Amanda. After raping and beating her, he cut her throat from ear to ear. He killed three more women before he was caught, convicted, and sentenced to death. Chance had sat in on the execution of Edgar Tilman. The man's final words were, "You can all go screw yourselves."

Chance snapped out of his thoughts as Toby stirred.

"Dad," said Toby, his lips curling back in a sleepy smile.

"Hey, punk," said Chance.

"What time is it?" asked Toby.

"Twenty past eleven. Sorry to wake you," said Chance. Toby shook his head.

"That's OK," said Toby. He sat up in bed a little.

"How was practice?" asked Chance.

"Good. My team won," said Toby.

"Cool," said Chance. Toby stuck his bottom lip out.

"Hey, dad. Can I ask you a kind of weird question?" asked Toby.

"Sure," said Chance.

"Mom had a lot of tattoos right?" asked Toby.

"Three," said Chance.

"Could I get one?" asked Toby.

"Absolutely not," said Chance, smiling a little.

"Why not?" asked Toby.

"Because you're only eight. Ask me again in ten years."

"How about a piercing? She had piercings right?"

"Two."

"Ear?"

"No. I'm not watching as hole is put in your ear."

"Nose.

"Mom didn't have a nose ring. And no."

"Lip?"

"You're not going to get a lip ring. And Mom didn't have one"

"Bellybutton?"

"Mom did have one of those. But no."

"Why not?"

"Can't pierce an outtie." Toby thought about this.

"Good point. Why'd I have to be an outtie?"

"What are you going to do?" Toby shrugged.

"Thought I'd ask." Chance ruffled his hair.

"How was work?" Toby sat up in bed some more.

"Same old routine."

"Any new cases?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess. The .45 Caliber."

"Yep."

"I knew it. The second I saw that most recent news report, I knew they would call you in."

"You were right." Toby yawned.

"You need to go back to sleep." Toby nodded and laid back down.

"Night, pal," said Chance, kissing Toby goodnight.

"Night, Dad." He turned on his side and closed his eyes. Chance rubbed his head and then quietly left his room. He sighed and walked to his room. His mind was still on the case. A million questions were playing back and forth. Who had motive? Who had the opportunity? Was the .45 Caliber the shooter? Was it a copycat? The questions haunted Chance until he descended into a restless sleep.

-------------

Storm Henshaw rubbed her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of the running water. She was sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi in her lavish bathroom. Everything was decorated in a green and violet color scheme, with hints of marble. When it came to decorating her upscale apartment, Storm spared no expense.

When the tub was filled with steaming hot water, Storm slipped out of her silky bathrobe and stepped into the clear water. She flicked the switch that turned on the bubbles and sighed as her tense muscles began to relax under the soothing massage of water.

It had been a long day, and it was finally over. She closed her eyes and leaned against the porcelain basin, and tried to think of something that wasn't work related. But, as they often did, her thoughts traveled back to everything that went on that day… starting with seeing Chance.

_Who would've thought that I'd ever see _him_ again? _She wondered listlessly, _talk about a blast from the past._

But it was a past that she wanted to forget. And now her job—what she loved more than anything else in the world—was forcing her to confront it once again. Face to face.

--------------

"You're going to get through this, man," Cody whispered to his still unconscious brother, "and when you do we're going straight home. And don't even think about causing another dramatic scene in the parking lot. I'm sick of you getting all the attention."

Carey smiled at Cody's attempt at a joke. _Laughter can get you through anything._

"Mom?" Cody asked suddenly.

Carey looked up. Cody had spent the last half hour talking quietly to Zack while she, Carey looked over his shoulder. Both of them focused their full attention to Zack, pretty much forgetting that the other was there.

"Yeah?"

"He _is _going to be okay, right?"

"Yes," Carey whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders. He sagged slightly, leaning into her. She smiled, glad that she still had this—this ability to comfort her teenage son, "Remember what Jack said before he left tonight? He lost a lot of blood and he's really week from the gunshot and the operation, but he's going to be alright."

"I remember," Cody said, turning to face her, "I just… I don't know."

She brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead, "You've had a long day. You should sleep."

He nodded.

"Night, Zack," he whispered, giving his hand a squeeze, "I'll see you first thing in the morning."

Carey bent forward and kissed Zack's cheek, "be strong, baby," she said.

Carey and Cody left the bedside and went to the on-call room to get some sleep.

"Everything's going to be okay," Cody said softly, more to himself than to his mom, "It has to be."


	4. Work to Do

**Requiem **by CRIMS0N HAZE and Xfilesguy123

**A/N-As with my other stories, this fic has taken a sabbatical. Hope there are still some fans/readers out there. **

Chapter 4

Chance managed a few hours of sleep. He woke up at six, anxious and not tired enough to go to bed. It was too early to go the hospital. Zack would still be asleep and most of the staff who had witnessed his shooting didn't get in until eight-thirty or nine. Chance kept himself busy and his mind off the case by doing some laundry. Household chores allowed him to save himself from overworking. If Chance thought about a case 24/7, he would go crazy. Toby came into the kitchen as Chance was folding the clean laundry.

"Ah, laundry day," noticed Toby.

"What do you do to your clothes, kid?" asked Chance, holding up a pair of ripped Spider-man underwear.

"Normal wear and tear," said Toby.

"What? Where you rock climbing in your underwear?" asked Chance.

"Dad, I've had those since I was six," explained Toby. Chance shrugged and folded them.

"Their still useable," he said, picking up a pair of jeans.

"Don't forget, I'm going to Greg's today," reminded Toby.

"I know. I'll drop you off on the way to the office," said Chance, as he put the basket of clean clothes aside.

"How about some breakfast? Pancakes sound good?" asked Chance. Toby nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought of Chance's homemade pancakes. Chance had inherited the recipe from his mother.

…………..

Jack Cole sighed as the detective flipped through his notes. Seven-thirty in the morning and he was answering questions about an attempted murder.

"Did you see the person who shot Zack Martin?" asked Detective Jim Burnett.

"I might have seen someone in a tan windbreaker. I can't really remember. I was focused on saving Zack's life," replied Jack.

"Tan windbreaker, huh? Was the hood up?"  
"I don't remember seeing a hood. But I also can't really be sure if I saw someone in a tan windbreaker. I hope that helps."

"Well if we find any witnesses to the other murders who saw someone in a tan windbreaker then we have ourselves a suspect."

"A guy in a tan windbreaker? That won't be hard to find."

"It's better then nothing." Jack shrugged.

"I need to go check on Zack so unless you have anything else," started Jack. Jim shook his head.

"The FBI will want to question you. But that's all I need," said Jim. Jack nodded and walked off towards Zack's room.

……………

Chance plopped another pancake onto Toby's plate. It was Toby's fourth.

"Good God, boy, you can eat," said Chance.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Besides I have a game today at six. I need to be well nourished and well rested," said Toby, pouring syrup over the pancake.

"I didn't help in the well rested department last night, did I?" asked Chance.

"Don't worry, Dad. I fell right back asleep. Besides, I like when you come and visit me after I've gone to bed," said Toby, taking a big bite of pancake. Chance smiled. He sighed as the kitchen phone rang.

"I can't even eat breakfast in peace," groaned Chance. He sighed and pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Special agent Chance Matthews?" asked the caller.

"This is he."

"My name is William Cross. I understand you'll be the profiler on the Caliber case."

"That's right."

"Then you'd better hurry and get down to the grocery store on 14th Street. There's been another murder. Seems the killer had to make up for that boy surviving."

"Alright. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I'll see you then." Cross hung up. Chance sighed.

"Toby, hurry up and eat so I can drop you off at Greg's. I have to get to 14th Street soon," said Chance, hanging the phone up. Toby nodded and finished off his pancake. Chance sighed. This was going to be a long day.

The scene at the Eat Well Supermarket resembled a haphazard tailgating party. Cops cars, news vans, a few other cars belonging to FBI agents. The scene was total chaos. Chance made his way through the crowd of cops, forensic people, and FBI agents. Special agent William Cross was standing by the body of a young woman. Brad Patterson was standing next to him.

"Agent Matthews," hollered Patterson, waving Chance over. Chance made his way through the crowd of people, avoiding the gaze of reporters. They would surround him if they got a chance. A few noticed him and made their way over to him. Chance ducked under the police tape quickly before they had a chance to throw questions at him.

"Agent Matthews, this is William Cross. Cross, this is Chance Matthews," introduced Patterson.

"It's an honor, sir," said Chance, shaking Cross' hand.

"Oh please. Don't call me sir. It makes me feel old," complained Cross. "William is fine."

"Do we have an ID?" asked Chance, looking down at the body.

"Valerie Haas. 23. She's a freshman at Harvard Law. She was in town visiting her parents. She was just coming her to pick up a few things," explained Cross. Chance shook his head.

"Where was the bullet found?" asked Chance.

"Near a pick-up truck about ten feet away. No one saw a thing," replied Cross.

"Who's the truck registered to?" asked Chance.

"We're checking on that," answered Patterson.

"You don't think the killer left his truck behind, do you?" asked Cross.

"You never know. Some killers like to play games. He maybe registered it under a false name and then left it here to mock us," explained Chance. Patterson let out a sigh.

"Is there any evidence of this guy playing mind games?" asked Patterson.

"It wouldn't surprise me. He thinks he's smarter then us so he shoves this in our face as a cruel joke," replied Chance. An FBI agent ran up to Patterson.

"Sir, our man just got to the hospital. He's ready to begin questioning," explained the agent.

"Proceed," replied Patterson.

"Question who?" asked Chance.

"Cody Martin. We've got to find out if that boy say anything," answered Patterson.

"Is Storm there?" asked Chance.

"What?"

"Is Storm Henshaw there?"

"Not yet. Why?" asked Patterson.

"You can't question Cody unless she's there. She'll sue the bureau so fast your head will spin."

"Then have Agent Burgess wait until Ms. Henshaw gets there," said Patterson to the other agent. The agent nodded and walked off.

"I was going to question Jack Cole this morning. Unless you want to handle this," said Chance. Cross shook his head.

"I'll get this. I need a profiler handling questioning. I'll call you if anything comes up," explained Cross. Chance nodded. He nodded at Patterson and headed to his car. He had to get to the hospital before Agent Burgess began digging into Cody's psyche.

……..

Cody watched Zack sleep. There wasn't much else to do. Zack was improving a little. He was responsive to touch and would squeeze Cody's hand if Cody squeezed first. His heart was still strong and his chest was healing nicely. The surgeons had done a great job. But Zack was still unconscious and doctors weren't sure when he would wake up. Cody had heard two doctors talking about the possibility of another surgery. Cody prayed that wouldn't happen. Zack had already been in surgery enough. Cody looked up as Jack Cole walked into the room.

"Hey, Cody. Look, Zack's latest scans show that the bullet did more damage then we thought. Plus we got some disturbing news from ballistics. It broke apart a little and a piece of it went down into his belly. We need to get it out. Plus this gives us a chance to explore his stomach and make sure everything is OK." Cody sighed.

"Another operation? Well, he'll be fine as long as you're working on him," replied Cody, looking at Zack with sympathy. Zack looked so helpless. Jack left to get Zack's usual surgeons together as Cody explained everything to Zack. Zack didn't respond in anyway.

"This sucks," Cody murmured, stroking Zack's arm, "But it is going to get better." He looked at Zack's lax face, "All this suffering can't be for nothing. It's just making us stronger, Buddy."

He took Zack's hand, "We will get through this together, Zack. You, me, and Mom. And we have this great detective and a lawyer on our side and they are going to get whoever did this to you. That monster is not getting away with this."

The door opened and Carey walked inside. Her hair was oily and she had dark circles under her eyes. Cody wondered when was the last time that she got a good night's sleep.

"Hey, Cody," she said tiredly, sitting down beside him, "Did Jack speak to you?"

Cody nodded, "Another surgery?"

"Yeah," she said, running her hands through her short blonde hair, "But Jack seems optimistic. And it will be the same surgeons who have been operating on him since he came in--they know the inside of his body by now."

Cody smirked, "Yeah, Jack told me what they would do."

"It is scheduled for eight o'clock tonight. They want to take care of the bullet as soon as possible so that it doesn't do too much damage, but they want to give Zack the rest of the day to gather his strength.

Cody returned his gaze to his twin brother. Despite the tubes and wires and needles, Zack seemed comfortable. That probably had a lot to do with his lack of consciousness, but Cody did not want to look too carefully into semantics when Zack's wellbeing was involved.

Cody tangled his fingers into Zack's silky blond hair and pushed his bangs back. He looked at Carey and their eyes locked. "Do you think he'll wake up before then?"

"M'awake now."

Cody and Carey jumped, then rested their surprised gazes on Zack.

"Hey," Cody said, resting his hand on Zack's head, "How are you feeling?"

"Can't sleep with you playing with my hair," Zack mumbled, blinking the sleep from his blue eyes.

Cody grinned and withdrew his hand, "Well I'm glad that it got you to wake up."

Zack smiled back, and then glanced around the room. His eyes widened, "I--I thought we were going home."

His voice trailed off and his smile became a grimace, "Oh my God," he grunted, clutching his chest.

"Zack!" Carey cried, rushing toward the bed. She placed one hand on Zack's arm which was holding his chest, right where he had been shot.

"Hurts," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"It's okay," Carey said, touching his cheek, "Breathe through it, Baby. I'll get a doctor in here."

She fumbled for the call button and pressed down.

Beads of sweat dotted Zack's forehead. His features were twisted with pain.

Cody placed a comforting hand on Zack's forehead and Carey helped him get into a sitting position. He had been taken off the ventilator earlier that day, and the top of the bed was tilted at an angle because it would be easier for Zack to breathe when he was in an upright position.

A nurse rushed in, answering the call. But before she even opened her mouth to ask what happened, Zack's eyes rolled back and he went limp in his mother's arms.

"Zack?" Carey asked, gently tapping his cheeks, "Baby, wake up."

"Wake up, Zack," Cody echoed.

"He was awake," Carey said desperately, sensing the nurse's presence, "He was awake and he was in pain."

The nurse nodded, "I'll speak with Dr. Cole," she said gently, "See if we can get him some more Morphine."

"No!" Cody cried, "The morphine just knocks him out. He was awake just a few minutes ago, and he could wake up again! But he won't if you guys keep drugging him!"

Carey carefully laid Zack back down, then went to comfort her other son. The nurse walked out of the room without a word and set out to find Jack Cole.

"Cody, he's weak," she said, pulling him into a hug, "I don't want him to be in any more pain then he already is."

Cody's eyes filled up with tears, "I just want him awake," he whispered hopefully.

"I know," she said. She felt a strain in her throat and a sting in her eyes, "So do I."

---------------

Storm Henshaw pulled into the parking lot of Boston General in her navy blue Mercedes. She had been up all night reading about the Martins' previous case, and finding everything she could on the .45 Caliber. She also looked into some closed cases that were similar to the present ones. She still could not figure out if the Martins and the .45 were connected. It seemed obvious that they were, but she still wasn't positive.

Most lawyers left the research aspects to paralegals. Storm did have a few adjuncts studying some old files to help prepare the case, but she did most of the research herself. That was what drew her into the law field in the first place. She loved the history that was involved.

Storm parked her Mercedes in the same place she did the day before. Because she was over an hour early, she sat in the car for a moment to hear the end of the song that was playing. But just as the final guitar strings faded from a crescendo, the melody was interrupted by a loud beeping noise that signaled breaking news.

"We are sad to report that there has been another murder this morning," the announcer said in a somber tone, "At Eat Well Supermarket on Fourteenth street a young college woman was shot and killed early this morning. While it is rumored to be another attack of the .45 Caliber Killer, authorities have yet to comment--

"Damn," Storm muttered, shutting off the radio. Her cell phone was turned off, and she knew that it would be filled with voicemails now.

She looked at the hospital building. Chance was probably already there or on his way.

"This case just keeps getting deeper," she said to herself. Then she climbed out of her car and headed inside. She had work to do.


End file.
